Elite Air Force Scouts Brave Friendly Fire, Runaway
Horses

Combat Controllers link the lethal duo of special operations and
precision air power

COMBAT CONTROLLER
Recieves Purple Heart

Sgt. Mike is awarded the Purple Heart
for his rescue mission during a
Taliban prison riot in Afghanistan

Blasted high into a cloud of heat and dust by an errant, 2,000-pound
guided missile, the Air Force sergeant thought he'd left earth behind for
good. Unable to see or hear, he felt himself lofting over a chaotic Afghan
battlefield into a quiet, numbing blackness.

"It was just a floating feeling of being pulled upward ... total
sensory deprivation," said the sergeant, Mike, whose full name was withheld
by the military. Sgt. Mike landed alive – inside an ancient Afghan fort
filled with armed, rioting Taliban and Al Qaeda prisoners.

It was late last November, and Sgt. Mike – a member of a highly
specialized, little-known group of elite US fighters known as combat controllers
(CCTs) – and his team were at the prison uprising near Mazar-e Sharif
trying to recover the body of slain CIA agent Johnny Michael Spann.

If the war in Afghanistan has showcased a lethal partnership of US
Special Operations Forces and precision air power – combat controllers
are the critical go-betweens, the most sophisticated human ground to air
link.

Now on brief rotations back home from Afghanistan, some of the first
CCTs on the ground in the Afghan war are telling their stories. They are
stories of bravery and ingenuity, of spotting targets from horseback using
laptops and laser goggles, of melding 19th century Afghan warfare with 21st
century US military technology in unprecedented ways.

"Nobody out there knows more about the ground plan and the air plan,
so when things go bad we are the ones who try to pull it all together," says
Senior MasterSgt. Robert Rankin, commandant of the Combat Control School
at Pope Air Force Base in North Carolina. "Our main job is to bring calm
to chaos."

A TINY force of less than 400 men, CCTs are in such demand that the
Air Force has imposed a "stop loss" order, barring any from leaving or retiring.
Experts in setting up remote landing strips and drop zones, guiding warplanes
with radios and radar, and calling in strikes for ground troops, their motto
is "First There." Indeed, in Afghanistan, CCTs were among the first to arrive
behind enemy lines, infiltrating the country with US special operationsteams
about a month after Sept. 11 to begin spotting targets for the Northern
Alliance.

One of those spotters, Sgt. Calvin, landed north of Kabul and within
30 hours called the first airstrikes on Taliban positions, according to an
Air Force account released last month.

Northern Alliance officers were so impressed that during an intense
firefight with Taliban forces, one of them moved to shield Calvin.

"He said if something happened to him ... someone else would step
in," Calvin said. "But if something happened to me, the planes could not
come."

Round-the-clock bombing followed. Calvin and others directed more
than 100 sorties by B-52s, F-18s, and other US warplanes, shattering Taliban
defenses. The battle for the capital that military planners estimated would
last six months took 25 days.

Key to the success was the precision with which Calvin and others
helped pilots miles above to steer the "smart bombs." Using binoculars, laser
target-designators, Global Positioning Systems devices, and radios, the CCTs
helped ensure the pilots "saw" the correct targets.

In the battle for Mazar-e Sharif and other towns, CCTs like Sgt.
Mike took positions on hilltops, using tripods and laser goggles to pinpoint
strikes that coincided with calvary charges by Afghan fighters. "The timing
was so precise that, as the soldiers described it, hundreds of Afghan horsemen
literally came riding out of the smoke," said Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld
of the Mazar assault.

Mike's Afghan odyssey began in early November, when his special forces
team infiltrated Afghanistan by helicopter 30 miles south of Mazar-eSharif
to work with a Northern Alliance general.

"At first we stayed in caves," says Mike. By day, the Americans worked
on battle plans with Afghan commanders.

At night, temperatures plunged, and they bundled in sleeping bags
on cave floors. Soon, Mike's group of US and Afghan troops broke camp, heading
out to capture a string of Taliban villages leading to Mazar-e Sharif. Mike,
however, faced a more immediate challenge: learning to control the large
white horse the Afghans had heaved him on.

"It was pretty intimidating," said Mike, whose training included
free-fall parachuting, escapes from sinking helicopters, and "drownproofing"
with bound hands and feet – but no equestrian course. In open fields,
the horse would run off with him in the saddle, but the airman was relieved
to learn it "was basically on auto-pilot" on narrow mountain paths.

On the battleground, success came more smoothly. The Northern Alliance
general would climb a hill with the US team and point out the Taliban-ruled
villages below. "We would bomb-strike it, and once the NA [Northern Alliance]
general felt there was nothing more they could do with air power, he would
call on his radio and the [Afghan] troops would rush the town on horseback...and
push out or wipe out the Taliban," recalls Mike.

The series of defeats hastened the fall of Mazar-e Sharif. "The Taliban
knew we were coming ... and as we got closer, they pretty much hopped in
their cars and left," says Mike. The victory was followed in mid-November
by the pell-mell retreat of the Taliban from cities across the north, including
Kabul.

But for Mike, the most intense combat was yet to come.

Late on the night of Nov. 25, his commander told him that several
hundred Taliban and Al Qaeda prisoners had broken out of a holding cell at
the nearby fort of Qala-e Jhangi. They had killed a CIA agent who was
interrogating prisoners, taken over an ammunition dump, and were wiping out
many Northern Alliance troops. Mike and his team were tasked with recovering
the agent's body.

Early the next morning, as they approached the dusty fort in Toyota
pickups, Mike could hear gunshots and mortar rounds exploding. Taking up
a position on the fort's northwest wall, he set up his radios as other team
members fired their M-4 machine guns.

Quickly, they began to draw heavy enemy fire, and Mike's commander
decided it was too risky for the team to enter the fort.

"There were mortar rounds dropping all over us," recalls Mike. "We
had to do something big or we were going to get hit."

"Something big" meant air power – more specifically "close air
support," the riskiest kind. Something went badly wrong. Instead of striking
the enemy grouped at the south end of the fort, the satellite-guided missile
hit a Northern Alliance tank, killing five Afghan fighters, and injuring
five members of Mike's team.

WHEN Mike hit the ground, he was buried in dirt and surrounded by
rubble. As light pierced the dust he found himself and his injured comrades
inside the fort, vulnerable to Taliban fire. The group scrambled back over
the north wall – carrying an unconscious Army captain – and drove
to safety. Mike was evacuated the same day, and later awarded the Purple
Heart.

Recovering now at Hurlburt Air Force Base in Florida, where he is
a member of the 23rd Special Tactics Squadron, the young combat controller
is awaiting his next assignment.

He says he's ready, but admits Afghanistan sobered him. "Being in
a combat zone," he says, "... is a big eye-opener to see how real war
is."